


Rescue

by GrimLegate



Series: Requiems For Tomorrow [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurot (Final Fantasy XIV), Amaurotine Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Minions (Final Fantasy XIV), Past Lives, Recovered Memories, other selves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:37:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22949629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimLegate/pseuds/GrimLegate
Summary: In the depths of The Tempest, in Amaurot's abandoned streets lies a rather unremarkable, yet intriguing little reminder of a past life.
Series: Requiems For Tomorrow [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1443916
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> I got the Ancient One minion and what a precious baby ;v; I wanted to write about it and also got a lil carried away lmao

It was a strangely melancholic feeling. To walk where giants had once stood, and to see the way that the once majestic city had begun to crumble without the magical influence of its master. With Hades- _Emet-Selch_ gone, there was nothing to keep up the illusion of how the city once was – what it might have been. 

Even now he could begin to see the haze that was forming on the edges of the buildings, and the Amaurotine’s voices had begun to take on a fuzzy quality, as though listening to their voices through a shoddy link-shell. But, despite the veneer that was sloughing off of the city day-by-day, there was an undeniable calm that struck him when he walked through the streets. 

He marveled at that which they would never have, and a part of him, deep inside of himself, mourned for the city that he had loved so dearly... 

_He?_ It wasn’t the first time that a thought like such had crossed his mind. It had become more and more frequent after Emet-Selch had been defeated... Even referring to the Ascian by _that_ name came with a twinge that disconcerted him, as if he had just called Ryne, Minfillia. Rhitaas rubbed his arm roughly, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. _Seven times rejoined... maybe that is what is causing this._ But, despite settling on that answer, something deeper in him knew that it was a shallow answer at best. 

“Kweh?” The miqo’te nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound, whipping around the concerned chocobo trailing behind him. She made a trilling noise once her master had turned around, and the fur on his ears and tail settled back down. He stepped forward to slide a gentle hand along her beak, and gently scritch the feathers under her head. 

“Sorry girl... I forgot you were there.” He smiled at the happy crooning she gave off, seeming unbothered by his momentary forgetfulness. The chocobo gently shook herself out letting out another happy trill once Rhitaas was done showing her some love. She gently nudged him with her head, crouching as she anticipated his mounting. But, Rhitaas shook his head, patting her before turning away. 

“Not today girl, I’d prefer to walk.” Vogel made another noise before falling back into step beside him, and Rhitaas returned to his thoughts. If he was honest... he didn’t know why he kept coming back to the abandoned city. He had been entranced on their first visit, and even Gladiolus had been slightly disconcerted with the way that the place had made the two of them feel, something that was missing from the rest of the Scions. 

But even now, as the luster had begun to wear off, he still found himself drawn to walk through the city. Mayhap, it was the commit the place to mind. After all, once the bubble surrounding the Tempest had dissipated, and the water came rushing back in, with absolutely no one to preserve it... 

Amaurot would be lost forever. 

_It was already lost,_ a miserable thought that brushed against his conscious. Yes, it had already been lost, if the broken skyscape at he and Hades’ final confrontation had shown him anything. The bright skyline, the hope for a new day, and the sparkling motes of light that rose from Hades’ form. _Remember us._

Maybe that was the purpose to all these wandering visits. To explore, to hold on to the memory of all of those that had been lost – the memory of a _home_. 

_Home?_ Rhitaas was becoming increasingly frustrated with the almost echoic voice that added to his thoughts. He was reminded in no small part of when he and Fray had first come to acknowledge one another, and the man felt as though he was losing control of himself as he had to face the reality that those thoughts, were _his..._

But, were these his as well? 

Motion flickered at the nearest building, and Rhitaas looked up to see one of the simulacrums pass through its doors, disappearing as its memory fizzled out the further that it got from him. Rhitaas looked up at the skyscraper, pursing his lips and trying to think of what _this_ building could have been used for... 

_Debate,_ a part of his mind supplied, and he felt no small sense of disconcert at that knowledge. His confusion was overwritten with the strong sense of awe, and memories not his own came rushing to the surface, 

_two bright souls on either side of him, shielding him from the rising uproar of the rest of the city’s inhabitants. the cool, deep voice of another,_ home _he thought quietly, and the thirst for knowledge and the awe felt from walking amongst the rest of his kind._

_The Echo,_ he tried to reason, but there was no flash of vision, no light-headedness that threatened to drop him to his knees. It was almost akin to a fond memory, _but of what?_ To say he was unnerved by it all was an understatement, and with the concern with which his companion regarded him, he decided that it might be best for them to call it a day. 

After all, the only reason that he was allowed to go out on these unsupervised adventures was the fact that he had Vogel with him in the first place. There was no shortage of people within the Crystarium that would be eager to remind him that he was supposed to be resting in his room, but thankfully Gladio and the rest of the Scions knew that these small trips would do plenty to soothe the ruffled fur at being kept cooped up in his room like an ailing old man. 

Rhitaas patted the chocobo’s side, and she gently lowered herself, allowing the miqo’te the reach for the horn of her saddle. His foot had barely touched the stirrup when a distressed cry broke the quiet atmosphere of the city and broke through the stupor that he had sunken into. It had not sounded like the cry of any normal creature that would have found itself at the bottom of the Tempest but had the same warbling resonance as the towering Amaurotine’s that populated the streets. 

Rhitaas swung himself into the saddle, spurring Vogel on to a run as they followed the cries that had alerted them in the first place. A group of the malformed creatures that lingered on the outskirts of the city were huddled over top of something, and a single flick of his chakram and a bellowed ‘kweh!’ was enough to convince most of them to give up their hunt, scurrying back to the shadows. 

He dismounted, listening still to the harried cries of the small form, and when Rhitaas crouched to the small form, he blinked at the sight of those miniature robes. A diminutive Amaurotine, cowering, babbling in what _sounded_ like Amaurotine, but the words held no meaning, if they were even words at all. Rhitaas gently brushed a hand against it, surprised to see that it was corporeal, and realized that, for all its looks – it was nothing but a doll. 

The moment that he had made contact with the small figure, its little body flinched away from him, still cowering under its hands as though that would protect it from any harm that came its way. Rhitaas sat patiently, his tail flitting back and forth as he rested on his heels. Finally, after a long moment of listening to the warbling whimpers, it made a tiny, soft noise of confusion and looked up at him from behind the pristine white mask. Rhitaas’ eyes softened, and reached a hand out to gently rest atop the mommets head. 

“Hey there, little guy... What are you doing all the way out here?” He questioned, receiving nothing except for unintelligible babbling. Rhitaas glanced around, truly wondering _where_ it had come from. There was nothing left down here except for the faded memories of those once alive. Maybe it had been a concept from long ago but seeing the ruin that the city had fallen to, Rhitaas doubted that something as small and fragile as a doll would have been able to survive such a catastrophy when its makers did not. 

Or maybe, a small part of him whispered, it was a remnant from Hades. _He was_ awfully _sentimental sometimes... I wouldn’t put it passed him._ A chill brushed up his back, and the miqo’te turned a thoughtful gaze to the small figure. Maybe it had been an impulsive thing, to create something with ‘life’ to fill the empty void along with the simulacrums that roamed the streets. It just... it _unnerved_ Rhitaas, to once more make their sworn enemies seem so... _human_. 

_But we were,_ a traitorous part of him reminded, and he felt the same hollowness settle in his chest as it had when they had defeated Hades. He had never hated Hades, he thought solemnly, watching the little doll running around and being frightened by Vogel, who trilled quizzically as it hid once more. Even after everything, after enduring the Light, and facing down every Lightwarden and the... _things_ that had been instrumental in Amaurot’s destruction, even after all of that... he still didn’t hate him. 

The others had called him varying degrees of foolish for it, but only Gladio had seen exactly how distraught Rhitaas had been after the gravity of everything had sunken in. Gladio lived for the here and now, so even despite his own feelings of some past life, he pushed them down, and had told Rhitaas that they existed in the _now_ and had a world to keep safe. 

But, despite his own personal feelings, Gladio had held Rhitaas as he had mourned the life he half-remembered – the home he never knew. 

Rhitaas’ head tilted up towards the surface, wincing at how late it had already become. No doubt the others were becoming concerned for his well-being. Which, while being a reminder of how much they really did care... he disliked the short leash he felt as though he was being kept on. 

With a sharp sigh, he pushed himself up, wincing at the stiffness in his knees. Vogel perked up with a ‘kweh’ of delight, as Rhitaas once more showered her in scritches, their time old tradition when they were setting off. The little mommet watched the two of them as Rhitaas hauled himself up into the saddle, and barely gave it a passing glance until it had warbled at him. 

Rhitaas looked to the small doll, and then at the city surrounding them. He knew not the next time that he would return and was unsure of when the bubble surrounding the Tempest would pop, leaving all of the inhabitants of the city washed away in the ensuing flood. Rhitaas leaned over, nearly falling out of his saddle, to pick up the little one, setting it just behind the horn of the saddle. 

“Could’t just very well leave you here, now could I?” He murmured, not having the heart to simply abandon it for the monsters to get to, or to watch its former home once more crumble around it and fall into decay. Those bottomless eyes stared up at him before, with a small warble, the doll reached its arms up to wrap around Rhitaas’ neck. It felt cold, and it babbled in its not-quite language, but the way it gently rested its head into his shoulder brought one of those floods of emotions forward. 

_the laughter of small children wrapped up in the ends of his coat, peering up at him with wide eyes from behind their masks. the bright nuggets of their souls, rippling with joy and awe at the wide expanse of his own. squeals of delight, as he wrapped them up into his outstretched arms._

Rhitaas stared, foggy eyed as Vogel climbled to the surface, his heart aching deep within his breast for some memory that he could not fathom. He glanced down to the little doll that had yet to move from its spot tucked up against him, and a hand moved to caress against its back, to hold it there, and to provide some form of comfort that some part of him willed. 


End file.
